The life behind the Diamond Glass
by Sorcha
Summary: What was it like to be Satine in Moulin Rouge ? UPDATED


Satine. Her name would always be a ripple of murmurs amongst the Parisian . Even after her death , her memory still burned brightly like the evening star . She was no mere woman to be forgotten and discarded like an empty husk .  
When Satine emerged into a room , the place darkened in comparison to the luminous light her beauty emanated . Upper class Parisian women were like the fragile flowers ready to be swept away by the wind . But she was a courtesan . Her life made her grew like an oak tree that rooted from the ground and reached toward the sky like an unbreakable pillar . Calm and ready for the storm .  
Men who spent a few minutes with Satine fell in love with her . Women hated her . Before I even met her I had gathered enough information from gossip and news to write a biography on her . Yet I decided to see the famous figure of Moulin Rouge myself .  
On judgment day , I sat in the waiting room . Every piece of furniture was priceless , every fabric and material screamed in luxury . The crystal chandelier sang softly , wanting attention . Yes , it seemed such a perfect world . No wonder women hated her . Jealousy was the cause of that . To have every man 's attention in Paris , to be clothed and jeweled in diamond , to dance and sing freely into the night . What was it like to be Satine ?  
The door creaked open and I glanced toward the figure approaching . From the way she held herself upright and her path straight and true , I knew that she was no one to be underestimate . Her smile was delightful yet as I bore into her eyes , I found myself submerged in a freezing blue sea . It was a shock but from that moment on I could not help but pity the girl .  
  
"Ms . Alexandra , how charming that you could pay a visit to Moulin Rouge!" her voice was smooth as silk and betrayed nothing but pleasure . Years of practice and she had perfected the skill to hook men with a mere voice .  
In such a close proximity , I could smelled the expensive perfume . It seemed to wrap around her like a tight blanket . She was a beautiful woman , yes . Her skin was extremely pale , like the full moon, but her lips were painted blood red . Autumn hair gathered up in a bun , only let loosed during the night . She stood extremely straight and her eyebrows arched delicately when the gap of silence continued to widen .  
"Ah yes .. I'm sorry . It's just that I have heard a lot of you and I'm just forming my own opinion ." She shrugged her shoulder and sat down in front of me .  
"What do you want to know ? "she acted like a book , ready to be read . Yet it was a closed book and I don't want to judge the beautiful cover until I read the flowing script of her life .  
"About you . Tell me about yourself , "I opened my hands , as a gesture of friendliness and appreciation . Her eyes narrowed a second to search for sincerity .  
"Would you not give the real truth about you a chance or would you rather be eaten by the continuous chatters of people who knows nothing about you ? "  
Satine leaned forward and whispered , "But aren't you a journalist ? "  
I smiled and nodded , "I search for the truth . "  
Her laughter was like waterfall , harsh in nature yet it deceived people by the gracefulness of it .  
"What you see before you is the truth . "  
I gazed into her eyes and flinched slightly as I saw the anger rising  
and her sky eyes darkened . She was lying and I thought as a courtesan she could hide her feelings better . It seemed that I touched an irritated spot .  
"Both of us know that you are lying . Would you not tell me what your life is like ? "  
She leant back on the chair and regarded me with cool eyes . She did what I demanded her to do , told a story about her childhood and her life as a courtesan . Yet I was repulsed by the perfection she tried to conjure . She emphasized on how happy she was , how wonderful it was to live in Moulin Rouge and to dance and sing for hundreds of men . She covered her life with talcum powder , so loosely based that all I need to do was to smear the flawlessness and reveal the story within .  
Finishing on a satisfied note , she stood up and opened the door. "I believe I have fulfilled your request . Unfortunately , I need to prepare myself for the night at the club . I 'm sorry I could not stay longer and answers any questions you have , "her voice betrayed nothing except the occasional flirt with mockery .She began to walk away when I called out to her , "Are you truly happy here ? "  
She stopped , her back straightened . Giving me an edged glare she smiled and replied , "Watch me sing . Watch me dance . Watch me live , " and she continued her path down the dim hallways .  
I watched her diminishing figure swallowed by the darkness and I could not help but gained a picture of her as a lost little girl , trying to find her way out of the maze she has created . A place she has dug herself into with no one to pull her out . Surrounded by everybody for every minutes of her life , yet she was utterly and desperately alone . Trying to be the mighty oak tree , unbreakable in its trunk yet falling apart , branch by branch , leaf by leaf .  
I did watch her at Moulin Rouge . She was a glitzy diamond , spectacular to the last breath .  
She sang ,she danced and she died . 


End file.
